Moments of Darkness
by Jolie.Mots
Summary: There would always be darkness, no matter how long we lived in peace. Our lives were happy, but there were always the looming ghosts of the past at our backs. The pleasant moments greatly outweighed the dark ones, but when the darkness struck, we always had each other. A collection of moments where Katniss and Peeta had to help each other fight their demons.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Normality never came easy to me. Because I had never been normal before. I had been a starving young girl, a hunter, a provider, a criminal, a tribute, the Girl on Fire, an actress, a Mockingjay, an assassin, a crazy person.

And yet some of the hardest roles for me to assume now was that of wife, mother, lover, healer. We were at peace, the war was over. However, no matter how long the peace continued, it still felt as if we were acting again. Still felt like Peeta and I were playing house, still felt as if reality would come crashing down to tear it all away.

Because we were both broken. We were both trying to pick up the broken pieces of our lives and put it all back together. As we did, I realized there were pieces missing that I would never get back, pieces that had been changed and morphed and wouldn't quite fit, and pieces that were mutilated, bent and destroyed that would always be a black hole in my heart, never to be whole again.

But we managed. We tried. We held each other and did everything we could to give our children good lives. Sometimes Peeta would get pulled back into tremors of a hijacking episode; sometimes I would have intense flashbacks that tore at my mind; we would never be perfect.

There would always be darkness, no matter how long we lived in peace. Our lives were happy, but there were always the looming ghosts of the past at our backs. The pleasant moments greatly outweighed the dark ones, but when the darkness struck, we always had each other.


	2. Songs of Sorrow

I shifted my weight slightly, the narrow branch supporting me rustling in response. There didn't seem to be much to be wary of here, but it was always imperative to be alert; you never knew when the Gamemakers would decide your life had been a bit too boring today.

My eyes darted to my left, then my right, looking not only for predators but also for prey; I was hungry and knew that I would have to have sustenance to be at peak physical condition. When neither surfaced, I leaned back against the rough bark of the trunk, relaxing ever so slightly.

Within a few minutes, I was back on alert, my heart picking up pace as adrenaline shot through my system.

There was someone approaching rapidly to my left, someone who wasn't being at all discreet about their movements. They were literally crashing through the forest and I realized that there were at least two people, both of them not bothering to even keep their voices down.

The only people who would be bold enough to be so blatant would be people who were dangerous enough to not care if they were heard. I listened carefully, my bow strung and my fingers aching with the tension of the string, shaking with the anticipation of an imminent kill.

But there was something off about their voices, something I couldn't place. Whatever it was seemed to tell my gut that they weren't Careers, but I didn't lower my bow until they had passed and their voices had grown distant.

Now, though, I glanced back in the direction they had come, wary of whatever it was that had set their seemingly frantic pace in motion. There didn't seem to be any danger, just the rustling leaves as the breeze kicked up. The only thing that didn't send me running, too, was the fact that the animals were still active and noisy; surely they would be on the move if there was anything to fear.

 _Idiots,_ I thought to myself, wondering what had spooked the others so much. Of course, I had to admit that it was easy to get spooked when you were in an arena full of creatures and other kids engineered to kill you.

I did need to stretch my legs, though, so I hopped out of my tree and carefully picked my way through the forest, making sure not to leave a trail. The sun was getting a bit lower, signifying that it was already late afternoon. My brow furrowed in concern as I looked about at the empty forest. It had been a while since I had seen Rue; I couldn't even remember exactly why we had parted, but I knew she was fine since there had been no cannon.

Searching about, I found the forest to be relatively empty enough. This was never a sure thing, though, so I armed my bow again before whistling the signal to the mockingjays overhead.

They picked up the tune easily and I heard it spread through the forest, the funny little birds happy to have some new notes. My heart was beating wildly as I kept on high alert, waiting to hear her respond back, to let me know that she was okay.

Nothing.

I panicked a bit, telling myself that she was probably just out of range, that she had wandered a little too far or had just gotten lost. Either way, I had to find my little ally before someone else did.

I moved quickly but silently, my armed bow ready to fire at the slightest sign of danger; every so often, I would offer up my tune to the mockingjays, and every time I was disappointed when they failed to sing Rue's little melody in response. I'm not sure how long I continued like this when I finally heard something other than the sounds of nature. Someone was walking towards me, their footsteps hardly concealed.

I turned my bow in that direction, anticipation winding me tight. I was a hunter, though, so instead of shaking or responding in fear, my hands grew steady and my focus narrowed.

When the footsteps were closer and no sign of a threat had surfaced yet, I offered out hopefully, "Rue?"

Still no response. She certainly would have announced her presence by now, come running to me when she realized who it was. I sucked in a breath, prepared to let my arrow fly.

But when the person revealed themselves finally, I couldn't fire my weapon. I didn't lower it, either, because I wasn't sure what to do.

"Katniss," Peeta's voice was low and measured, his eyes searching my face and his palms up to display his lack of threatening intent.

I couldn't find my voice, so I just swallowed. What was he doing here? Was he an ally? An enemy? A trick of my addled mind?

"Katniss," he repeated, "What are you doing?"

I'm so confused that I find my words, "What do you mean?" Wasn't it obvious? I was staying alive.

"I mean, why are you out here?" His voice is still calm and that makes me angry for some reason.

Instead of answering his question, I fire back my own, "Did you see her?"

"See who?" he looks genuinely confused.

"Rue."

His expression shifts, sadness and another emotion I can't place twisting his features.

"Katniss, why don't you lower your bow so we can talk?"

These words only fuel my anger and confusion so, instead of doing what he suggested, I pull it tighter and point it directly at his heart, "No, I have to find her. Did you kill her?"

I'll kill him; I'll kill him on the spot if he's hurt her. District partner be damned.

"No. No, I didn't kill Rue." Something in his voice tells me that he is telling the truth. I lower my bow a fraction, but keep it where I can send the arrow through his chest in an instant if need be.

"We have to find her. You have to help me find her." For some reason, I feel an overwhelming desire to trust Peeta, knowing that he will help me.

"Okay, alright. But why don't you put your bow away. We don't want to accidently hurt her if she surprises us." He's taking a step closer, encouraged by my idea of teaming up.

I become suspicious, but I don't raise my bow again, "The Careers," I remind him, "They might be hunting for us."

"Trust me, we will hear them if they are near." And I do trust him. I hesitate, thinking of dangers aside from the deadly Career tributes, but put my bow away anyway. That nagging feeling that Peeta would not put me in harm's way encourages me to listen to him.

As soon as I am unarmed, I feel myself being wrapped in his embrace and his hand gently tugs the bow completely out of my grasp. I tense, completely taken by surprise by his strange actions. What was going on?

"Oh, Katniss." He whispers in an agonized voice and I realize the warm wetness on my neck where his face is pressed must be his tears.

Jerking out of his grasp, I pull an arrow from my quiver, livid with myself for allowing him to disarm me. My eyes dart to my beloved bow still grasped tightly in his hand. One glance at his face confirms that it had been his tears on my neck. There was one falling down his left cheek now.

"What is going on?!" I demand, pointing the arrow threateningly in his direction.

"Katniss, we aren't in the arena." His voice is clear and firm but still broken with sadness.

I take this bit of information with shock, my eyes searching around for any sign that he is right. Just trees. Trees and Peeta and loud, unidentified children. "What?"

"You are Katniss Everdeen-Mellark, my wife. We are the victors of the 74th annual Hunger Games, escapees of the 3rd Quarter Quell, and survivors of the successful second rebellion. We live here, in a rebuilt District 12." He hesitates here and watches me as I freeze in shock.

Is he right? Did everything he just said actually happen? My instinct tells me to trust him, but I feel the urge to run. The whirlwind of my mind keeps me from responding and yet something is surfacing from the confusion. Memories, memories of our life that would coincide with his story.

When I remain silent he continues, "Haymitch lives next door to us still and raises geese." Peeta smiles slightly, "He's still a drunk, but not nearly as unbearable as he used to be. You still like to hunt here, in your woods."

I look around and realize that he is right, this is my woods. This forest is too familiar and too beautiful to be the arena. I drop the arrow, but continue to eye him warily, the confusion making my head spin. It still wasn't clear.

He hesitates and chokes out the next words, "We have two children. Two beautiful children. You brought them out here today while I was in town."

As soon as he mentions my children, I let out a strangled cry, my hand flying to cover my mouth and prevent any more horrible sounds.

It all comes crashing back, every horrifically bad and every unbelievably pleasant memory of the past years bluntly shoving me back to reality. If I had brought the kids with me to the woods, where were they now?

I whip the quiver of arrows off my back and count them rapidly. Even though Peeta is now hastily reassuring me of their safety, I count them two, three, four times more. They are all accounted for, I hadn't accidently sent one through one of my children.

I begin to sob, uncontrollable gasps forcing the wretched cries from my throat. Realization dawns on me as I remember the panicked haste that those two unknown people that I had mistaken for fellow tributes had torn back up the pathway. How close I had come to killing them. I shiver and a fresh wave of sobs wracks my body.

Peeta just holds me, rocking me as I weep in his arms on the forest floor. Slowly, I regain my composure and begin to right myself. As I do, he carefully tells me about how the kids had run crying all the way to town, not stopping until they had reached the bakery and tearfully told Peeta about how I had run off with my armed bow in hand and left them on the trail.

My heart clenches as he tells me that their fear was not for themselves, but rather for Mommy, who had warned them countless times about the dangers of wandering around alone in the forest. I hadn't told them that one of those dangers was their own mother.

Through my current state of self-hate, I am thankful that I had warned them so many times and had advised them to run as fast as they could back up the path and home if there was even the slightest of dangers. Never had I imagined that they would have to run from me.

"How can I protect them from myself?" I ask Peeta, my heart breaking with hopelessness. I could never seem to keep my most precious loved ones from being harmed.

"They're safe." He assures me again, his voice hard as he tries to convince me.

"They're not safe, Peeta. They'll never be safe. I will never be able to keep them safe." My voice rises, the hysteria beginning to fuel my anger. "I almost killed them myself, Peeta."

He winces but stands his ground, "You could never do that, Katniss. I know you couldn't. But even if you could, I will make sure that never happens."

I look him in the eye and know that he will keep his word. He loves them just as much as I do. And that's what we do; we protect each other, even if we are the biggest threat to ourselves.

We make our way back, the sunlight fading quickly. I ache to have my bow back in my hand, but I don't dare. Who knows what might trigger me to lose my grasp on reality again? All I want to do is get home and hold my babies close to me, perhaps never to let go. I won't be fully convinced of their lack of harm until I have them in my arms myself.

"What happened, Katniss?" Peeta asks quietly as we near the edge of the trees.

I hesitate before recounting the happenings of the day for him, his hand clasped tightly in mine.

 _EARLIER THAT DAY_

Their laughter is like music, ringing in the peaceful forest as they run ahead along the now often-traveled path. I smile, their happiness like a drug I could not get enough of.

Peeta was in town today, helping the baker with a rather complex wedding cake that had been ordered for the upcoming weekend. He didn't work there officially, having not been able to get past the painful memory of his lost family, but he enjoyed lending a hand when a big project came in. The baker was always grateful for his expertise.

The kids and I were supposed to hang out at home today and work on painting the little playhouse that Peeta had built in the backyard but when I had woken up, I had found myself in one of my best moods. Good days where I was truly joyful hardly ever came, so I had decided to take advantage and take the kids on a walk in the forest to share with them my most treasured sanctuary.

I watched with a careful eye as they skipped ahead, picking wild flowers to run back and give me, chasing unsuspecting squirrels, and poking at the bugs that crawled across the forest floor. Every so often I would shout a warning to them when they would stray a little too far off the trail, but other than that I let them have their fun.

It was a beautiful day, a day I would usually love to spend hunting. Even though I had my bow and arrows with me, they were not here for hunting, since the little monsters were forging ahead with about as much stealth as their father could manage. Instead, they were slung over my shoulder for protection, just in case one of the less-than-friendly creatures of the wild decided to make an appearance.

It was odd to feel this protective of other human beings; I had always thought that I had been overprotective before, but it was nothing compared to the fierce instincts that had arrived with my children.

I smile again as my daughter presents a brightly colored weed to me. I react with as much overjoyed enthusiasm as I had the first ten times she had given me one and add it to the little bouquet sticking out of my pocket. She smiles with pride and hurries back to where her brother is attempting to climb onto a fallen log.

"Be careful," I warn, knowing that he will need a boost to reach the top. Just as I reach them and push their little bottoms up the rest of the way, it happens.

My head whips around at the sound as I automatically prepare my bow. Rue's melody, or something very similar, was still ringing in my ears as I hurried into the trees, oblivious to the confused cries of my children.

Rue was in trouble. I had to find her. The offending Mockingjay had just fluttered onto a branch and I knew she wouldn't be far. I scale the tree to wait, knowing that I will be able to see any incoming company much better from this vantage.

So I sit and wait in the trees, not noticing the frightened cries as my children attempt to call me from the memory of that horrific arena, back to them and to my reality.


	3. Strong

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I just like to torture the characters.

"How about this one?" his daughter turned, her little face dotted with frosting, proffering her chosen tip.

"I think that one will work wonderfully." Peeta took it from her, attaching it to the piping bag.

"Do you think Mommy will like it?" his son asked, his legs swinging back and forth from his perch on the counter.

"I think Mommy will love it." Both children smiled widely as he scooped frosting into the bag.

"I wanna, Daddy, I wanna do it." His little girl was reaching her hands up, and he smiled indulgently.

"Okay, why don't you bring over a chair so you can reach?"

She immediately ran over and scooted one of the kitchen chairs to where their freshly-baked cake waited for its crowning decorations.

"Mommy said she doesn't like celebrating her birthday." His daughter said as she clambered up to stand on the chair.

"Mommy will love celebrating with you two, though." He placated while placing her little hands around the piping back, guiding them with his, "Okay, so you want to move it nice and slow, okay? Follow Daddy."

They continued on like that for a while, decorating the cake together and taste-testing more than he usually allowed.

"Aaaand finished." He added a dramatic twirl to his last flower for effect, and the kids giggled and clapped. His heart swelled with the sounds.

They admired the cake together before setting it aside. It had an endearing sloppiness to it that would have irked the precise artist side of him had it not been because of his children's involvement. But he knew Katniss wouldn't mind.

There was no telling what would trigger him. While sounds were often what set Katniss off into her own personal darkness, there was no identifiable pattern to Peeta's loss of reality.

In one moment, he was helping his kids hop down and watching them run to the front door so they could go pick birthday flowers for Mommy. In the next, he was lost in his mind, flashes of false memories flickering by so quickly, he could not identify any individual one.

He reached around blindly, finally finding the chair his daughter had scooted over. The wood was solid beneath his hands, and he clung to it as if his life depended on it.

The ghost of unimaginable pain rippled over his skin and he shuddered, willing the fuzzy, murky flashes that seemed too bright against his mind's eye to disappear. But they didn't. They just kept coming.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, where he knew his sanity was cowering, he hoped his children had gone outside without him and that they weren't watching him struggle through this episode.

Tears pricked behind his eyes and he choked down a moan of despair. He was not sure how long he continued on like this. How long he was clinging to that damn chair, sweat beading across his body, pain wringing him out like a used rag, and the unstoppable flow of false images bombarding him.

There was no sense of time when he was attacked by his own mind.

"Shh shh shh," the voice seemed far-off, but he clung to it like a lifeline, like an anchor to reality. His hands ached as they clung tightly to the chair, he could taste blood in his mouth from where he had bitten the inside of his cheek, and that voice. All of these things kept him from drowning in the pain and those damn flickers of memories he knew were not memories.

"Peeta," he felt her then. It wasn't the soft caresses she saved for when they were alone, or the gentle guiding touches as she tried to teach him how to string a bow.

Her grasp was strong, and he was reminded that she was made of iron. He focused on her grip, then, so tight around his elbows.

"Peeta, I'm here."

He could feel himself coming back; the images were slowing, the pain was receding.

He blinked, taking in the pale skin on the back of his hands first, then shifting his eyes upwards to her face.

She was pale, too, but her gray eyes were steady and focused on him.

"Peeta."

"Katniss." His voice was weak, but did not break, "The kids."

"They're fine." He let out a sigh of relief, "They're still picking flowers."

"Good." He release the chair finally, his hands aching slightly, "Good. I'm glad they didn't see."

He sat down in the chair now, his body aching as if he had just labored in the bakery for days. He was shaking slightly, and his vision was blotchy, as if he had just come indoors from a sunny day and his eyes were still adjusting. His mouth was dry, and he couldn't find the right words to speak. So he just leaned forward, letting his head rest against Katniss' midsection. She let her fingers weave into his wavy hair, damp with sweat. He sighed at the sensation, letting her sooth him back to reality.

He felt weak, unworthy of her. At that moment, he felt as if he were the weakest person alive, unable to even keep his thoughts at bay.

"You're the strongest man I know."

He looked up at her, surprised. Her expression was the same, strong and steady. She leaned in and kissed his temples, first on the right, then on the left.

Somehow, she always knew what he needed to hear.

"We baked you a cake." His voice was low, as if he didn't trust it.

"I can see that." A smirk played at the corners of her mouth.

"For your birthday."

"You know how I feel about my birthday."

"It was the kids' idea."

She broke into a full-blown smile, "Well then, let's get them back in here so we can celebrate."

And just like that, life went on.


	4. Tick Tock

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I just like to torture the characters.

 _Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock_

I forced myself to ignore the wretched sound, forced myself to focus on dinner.

"And then, and then I jumped in and I could do it, Daddy!" My daughter was happily retelling the tale of her swimming lessons that she was taking at school. She had originally been telling both of us, but since I had not responded at all to her exciting story, she had turned her full attention to Peeta.

"Wow! You'll have to show me soon. Maybe we can all go to the lake together after school tomorrow." Peeta showed the appropriate amount of enthusiasm. Our daughter was delighted.

"Yeah! Mommy, will you come with us to the lake tomorrow?"

 _Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock_

"Mommy?" My eyes flashed to my daughter's timid face, but didn't reply. That sound was the only thing I could hear in my head.

 _Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock_

"I wanna learn how to do swimming!" My son piped up in his childish voice.

"You want to learn how to _swim_." Peeta corrected, "And you will, when you get a little older. But you and I can play in the shallows, right?"

My son grinned happily.

 _Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock_

I could feel Peeta's leg pushing against mine gently, a silent anchor to the here and now. I tried. I tried really hard to focus on the lovely dinner of fresh venison, cheese buns, and wild greens. I tried to force myself to look at my children's beautiful faces, to return the pressure of Peeta's leg against my own.

 _Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock_

"Maybe we can take a picnic! I love picnics."

"Yeah, I think that would be a lot of fun!" Peeta's enthusiasm is a bit more forced and I could feel his eyes on my face, but continued to stare down at my plate.

 _Hickory dickory dock_

 _The mouse ran up the clock_

"Can Netty come too?"

"Why don't we make it just us, sweetie?"

 _The clock struck one_

 _Down the mouse run_

"Eat your greens."

"But I don't like them!"

"Don't you want to grow big and strong?"

 _Hickory dickory dock_

"Stop it!" I felt my whole body go rigid as I slammed my fist into the table.

Silence followed my outburst and I looked into the frightened faces of my children, the concerned and alarmed face of my husband.

"Katniss?"

"Stop singing the song."

Hesitation.

"No one was singing, Katniss."

His hand reached for mine, but I pulled back, guilty at ruining the pleasant evening. I tried to recover what I could of it.

"Maybe we can pick some berries for our picnic tomorrow. What do you think?" I asked, my voice shaky.

My forgiving children melted easily back into contentment as they responded excitedly to my berry picking idea. Peeta, however, was unconvinced and continued to shoot me worried glances as I took tentative bites of my meal.

 _Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock_

"I can go hunting tomorrow morning. Maybe get something fresh for our picnic?" I murmured to Peeta, continuing to attempt to salvage our dinner.

"That's a good idea." He murmured back, offering me a small smile.

 _Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock_

The sound was inescapable and bounced around inside my skull, making me crazy.

 _Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock_

No, I could not have a pleasant evening with my family with that noise.

 _Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock_

I forced my chair backwards away from the table and walked out of the room, searching for something. There was silence behind me except for that incessant noise.

Walking back into the room, I went straight for the clock on the wall and swung the hammer I had found into the face, shattering the glass with a resounding crash. Once, twice, three times.

My children were screaming for me, crying. I could hear Peeta trying to sooth them as he ushered them from the room, but I couldn't hear what he was saying exactly.

All I could hear was that noise.

I dropped the hammer and wrenched the clock from the wall, slicing my hands on the broken shards in the process. I ripped out a part that looked important from the back of the clock and dropped it to the floor.

The room was silent.

Peeta's arms guided me gently to a seat as he carefully placed a cloth around my bleeding hands. Then he was on the phone, speaking silently, and the next thing I knew there was someone at the door and hurrying upstairs to check the kids.

Peeta returned and I looked into his eyes,

"No more clocks." I whispered, my voice cracking.

"No more clocks." He agreed.

A/N: Thank you to those who have reviewed. I also apologize for the wonky change in tense in the first chapter. I wrote this story a looonnngg time ago, and just recently dug it up. I guess I was so excited to post it, that I didn't do a very good job of proofing. I may fix it in the future, but for now, I'll just try to make sure the rest of the chapters are up to scratch

Also, this story was originally only from Katniss' perspective, but I felt like I was missing out on some good stories from Peeta. I went back and wrote a couple centered on him, which is why it switches from first person to third when switching between the two.


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